Ella Enchanted (21 page)

“Lela. I’m so sorry!” There was so much remorse in his voice that I was startled.

“Why? What were you saying? I’m the one to apologize. I wasn’t listening. I was thinking how sad I’ll be to leave Frell.” I laughed a little. “No more balls every night.”

“But you can come back, can’t you?”

“I suppose. But it won’t be the same. You can never go back to a moment when you were happy.”

“That’s true.” The dance ended. “Would you like to go outside? Every time the musicians start up, I’m reminded of all the maidens with whom I should be dancing.”

Outdoors we strolled through the castle gardens while I kept listening for chimes. How much time had passed? How much was left?

Char spoke of Frell, asking whether I’d visited this sight or that, and describing each one for me. I must have answered him reasonably when I had to. But if called upon to repeat what I said or what he said, I couldn’t. Most of my mind and all of my heart were set on the sound of his voice, the warmth of his arm in mine, the rhythm of our steps together, the fresh scent of the night air. And on the wish that each minute would last a year. I cried again, but in the dark he didn’t see. And the clock moved relentlessly on: ten, half after, eleven, half after.

“That’s enough,” he said finally. “I can face them now.”

Inside we danced again. “Soon it will be time for me to sing. After that, I’ll either be surrounded by worshiping music lovers or be shunned by all.”

“Surrounded,” I said. “And I would never shun you.”

“I wonder. You may shun me if you know the truth.” He took a breath and was suddenly quite formal. “I apologize if I unintentionally raised your expectations, but I’ve resolved never to marry.”

So the balls hadn’t been his idea. I stifled a triumphant laugh. “You didn’t mislead me. I’ve only been saving stories for home. I’ll tell them, ‘The prince said thus-and-so to me, and I said thus-and-so back to him. And, Mother, I made him laugh. I made our prince laugh. And Father, he danced with me — one night with almost no one except me.’ ‘What did he wear?’ my sister will want to know. ‘Did he have his sword with him always?’ Father will ask.”

Char tightened his hold on my waist. “Marriage is supposed to be forever, but friendship can be forever too. Will you…”

I felt something at the back of my head. Hattie, dancing nearby with the Earl of Demby, snatched off my mask. I let go of Char and covered my face with my hands, but not quickly enough.

“ELLA!” Hattie shrieked.

Char gasped. “Ella?”

I broke away from him and began to run as the clock struck midnight. Char would have caught me in a moment, but Hattie must have held him somehow.

Outside, a huge pumpkin stood uselessly in the line of carriages. I continued to flee. A white rat skittered across my path. Somewhere I lost one of my slippers. I ran on, listening for pursuers.

At home, maybe Mandy would know what to do. Or I’d hide in the cellar, in the stable — somewhere. How could I have gone to the balls? To put Char and Kyrria in such danger!

“Mandy!” I shouted as soon as I reached the manor. A servant stared at me. I ran into the kitchen. “I’ve endangered Char again, and Kyrria! What can I do?”

“Pack your things,” Mandy said as soon as she understood my rushed explanation.

“Where shall I go?”

“I’ll come with you. We’ll find work as cooks. Hurry.”

“Can’t you pack for us by magic?” She’d done it before. It was just small magic.

“Nothing is small magic in a moment like this. Go!”

Fairies! I raced to my room and began to throw things into my carpetbag. I had little; it would be the work of a minute. I heard the door open downstairs. There were voices. We’d never manage to leave. I tore off my ball gown and donned my tattered servant’s wear, rubbing the sooty skirt across my face. Over my hair I tied a ragged length of linen.

Nancy appeared at my door. “It’s the prince! He wants to see everyone.”

I didn’t move.

She giggled nervously. “He won’t eat us, at least I hope not. Come.”

I followed her, my heart drumming loud enough to drown out all thought.

He stood in the hall with his knights and our entire household. In the midst of all that was more important, I hated him to see me covered in rags and cinders.

I stationed myself behind the tallest manservant, but Char and the knights walked among us. Straining for a new disguise of servant and simpleton, I sucked on my fist and stared about vacantly.

Sir Stephan found me. “Here’s a maid,” he said. “Come, lass.” He took my hand and pulled me to Char.

“Ella! Ella? Why are you dressed so?”

“Your Majesty, I’m…” I was about to deny my name, but Hattie spoke for me.

“That’s only Cinders, the scullery maid,” she said. “Sire, would you care for a refreshment now you’re here?”

“She’s a scullery maid?”

“A scullery maid. Of no account. But our cook, Mandy, has cakes fit for a prince.”

The door wasn’t far. Sir Stephan still held my hand. I pulled, but couldn’t break away.

“Lass,” Char said to me. “I won’t hurt you, no matter what.” He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face up to his. I wanted to catch his hand and kiss it.

As soon as we touched, I knew he recognized me. He brought my slipper out from his cloak. “It belonged to Ella, and will fit her alone, whether she is a scullery maid or a duchess.”

A chair was brought. I wished for normal-sized feet.

“That’s my slipper,” Hattie said. “It’s been missing for years.”

“Your feet are too big,” Olive blurted.

“Try it,” Char told Hattie.

“I lost it because it kept falling off ” She sat and removed her own slipper. I caught the familiar smell of her feet. She couldn’t wedge her toes in.

“I’m younger than Hattie,” Olive said. “So my feet are smaller. Probably.”

They were bigger.

Now it was my turn. Char knelt, holding the slipper. I extended my foot and he guided it. The slipper fit perfectly, of course. What was I going to do?

His face was close to mine. He must have seen my terror. “You needn’t be Ella if you don’t want to be,” he said softly.

He was so good.

“I’m not,” I said. But in spite of myself, tears streamed down my cheeks.

I saw hope spread across his face. “That letter was rubbish. A trick.” He glared at Hattie, then turned to me, his look probing. “Do you love me?” He still spoke softly. “Tell me.”

An order. “I do.” I was sobbing and smiling at once. How was I going to give him up again?

Char was jubilant. His voice rang out. “Then marry me!”

Another order. I nodded and continued to weep. But my hand found its way into his.

“Don’t marry him, Ella,” Hattie commanded, giving my name away for once and all.

I withdrew my hand. “I can’t,” I said. Perhaps Hattie would save us.

“Hattie, don’t be a fool,” Mum Olga snapped. “Don’t you want to be stepsister to the queen and make her give you whatever you like?” She smiled at me. “His Highness is kind enough to want to marry you, Ella, my sweet.”

It had begun. The curse would make Hattie and Mum Olga as grand as they wanted to be, and it would provide endless wealth for Olive.

Char was looking at me with such gladness, and I loved him so. I was the cause of his joy and would be the cause of his destruction: a secret delivered to his enemies, a letter written in my own hand, a covert signal given by me, poison in his glass, a dagger in his ribs, a fall from a parapet.

“Marry me, Ella,” he said again, the order a whisper now. “Say you’ll marry me.”

Anyone else could have said no or yes. This wasn’t a royal command. Char probably had no idea he’d given an order.

But I had to obey-wanted to obey — hated to harm him — wanted to marry him. I would destroy my love and my land. They were in danger, and no one could rescue them. We were all doomed, all cursed.

Char was too precious to hurt, too precious to lose, too precious to betray, too precious to marry, too precious to kill, too precious to obey.

Words rose in me, filled my mouth, pushed against my lips. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, I love you. Yes! Yes! Yes!

I swallowed, forcing them down, but they tore at my throat. A strangled noise erupted from me, but not words, not consent.

He put a hand on my shoulder. I must have frightened him, but I couldn’t see his face; my vision had turned inward where the battle raged. I heard Lucinda’s voice, “My gift to Ella is obedience. She will always be obedient.” I saw Mandy telling me to eat my birthday cake. I saw SEEf leering at me and heard him. “No need to be persuasive with this one. It’d cook itself if we told it to.” I saw Olive counting my coins, Mum Olga standing over me while I scrubbed the courtyard, Hattie wearing Mother’s necklace.

I’d eaten the cake, drunk the Tonic, given up the necklace, slaved for my stepmother, let Olive suck me dry. They’d gotten all they wanted of me, but they weren’t going to get Char. Never. Never.

Be obedient. Marry him. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.

The tears streaming from my eyes were acid, burning my cheeks. My mouth filled with liquid, bile and blood from biting my tongue, salty and corrosive and sweet.

In spite of myself my mouth opened. Consent had won. Obedience had won.

But I clamped my hand over my mouth. My yes was stillborn.

I remembered Char at Mother’s funeral, waiting for me while I wept, grieving for Mother too. I heard his promise at the menagerie. “And soon I shall catch a centaur and give it to you.” I saw him binding SEEf’s ankles. I saw him, buttonless doublet flapping, bow to Father after we’d flown down the stair rails. I saw the ball and King jerrold beaming at his son, the hope and future of Kyrria.

Say yes and be happy. Say yes and live. Obey. Marry him.

I began to rock in my chair. Forward, the words were about to come. Back, I reeled them in. Faster and faster. The legs of the chair thudded on the tiles and pounded in my ears. Marry him. I won’t. Marry him. I won’t.

Then I lost sense of all of it. I went on rocking and crying, but my thought burrowed within, concentrated in a point deep in my chest, where there was room for only one truth: I must save Char. For a moment I rested inside myself, safe, secure, certain, gaining strength. In that moment I found a power beyond any I’d had before, a will and a determination I would never have needed if not for Lucinda, a fortitude I hadn’t been able to find for a lesser cause. And I found my voice.

“No,” I shouted. “I won’t marry you. I won’t do it. No one can force me!” I swallowed and wiped my mouth on my filthy sleeve. I leaped up, ready to defy anyone.

“Who would force you?” Char sounded shocked.

“No matter who. I won’t, I won’t. They can’t make me, no one can make me. I won’t marry you.”

Olive said, “She’ll marry you. You told her to. She has to listen.” She laughed. “Marry him and give me your money.”

“I won’t! Stop ordering me to!” I was still shouting, invigorated. I wanted to march, waving banners. Char would not die because of me. Char would live. Live and prosper.

“She doesn’t have to marry me,” he said.

“Hush, Olive,” Hattie said. “Ella, go to your room. His Majesty can have no further need of you.”

Char said, “I have great need of her.”

“Hush, Hattie!” I said, intoxicated with my success. “I don’t want to go to my room. Everyone must know I shan’t marry the prince.” I ran to the door to our street, opened it, and called out into the night, “I shan’t marry the prince.” I turned back into the hall and ran to Char and threw my arms about his neck. “I shan’t marry you.” I kissed his cheek. He was safe from me.

He turned my head and kissed me on the mouth. The kiss swept through me, and I clung to him, trembling.

From behind me, Hattie shrilled, “Go to your room this instant. I command you.”

I ignored her, but Char pulled away.

“Why won’t you marry me? Why not, if you love me?”

“I’m cursed. You wouldn’t be safe if I were your wife.” What was I saying? I hadn’t told anyone about the curse since I was eight. Mother had forbidden it. Had someone told me to?

No one had. Then why…

My thoughts wouldn’t settle.

I wasn’t going to marry Char, that was certain. He looked so handsome, smiling from our kiss, then frowning in confusion, a smudge of my soot on his nose. I wiped it off. Saving him made him more mine than ever.

Could my refusal mean the spell was broken? Could it? I took stock of myself. I did feel different: larger, fuller, more complete, no longer divided against myself — compulsion to comply against wish to refuse. Larger, but lighter, much lighter — a burden shed. A massive burden.

I’d defied Olive’s command as well as Char’s. And Hattie had sent me to my room, but I was still here. I had told my secret, but I felt no dizziness, no pain.

“You’re free. The curse is over, love.” Mandy was at my side, hugging me. “You rescued yourself when you rescued the prince. I’m that proud and glad, sweet, I could shout.”

I had been able to break the curse myself. I’d had to have reason enough, love enough to do it, to find the will and the strength. My safety from the ogres hadn’t been enough; zhulpH’s rescue hadn’t been enough, especially not with guards about; my slavery to Mum Olga hadn’t been enough. Kyrria was enough. Char was enough.

Now it was over. Ended forever. I was made anew. Ella. Just Ella. Not Ella, the slave. Not a scullery maid. Not Lela. Not Eleanor. Ella. Myself unto myself. One. Me.

I tore off the rag that covered my hair. Then I curtsied to Char.

“When you asked for my hand a few minutes ago, I was still too young to marry.” I looked up at him and saw a smile start. “I’m older now, so much older that not only can I marry, but I can beg you to marry me.” I knelt and took his hand.

He didn’t let me kneel before him. He pulled me up and kissed me again. I took that to signify his consent.

IN A MONTH we married. For the ceremony I wore my first new gown in a year and Mother’s necklace, which I reclaimed from Hattie. After my deception had been explained to them, King Jerrold and Queen Daria welcomed me joyously into the royal family.